


Don’t worry (about a thing)

by Enochian Things (Salr323)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Coda, Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, M/M, Season/Series 11 Speculation, Spoilers based on speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Enochian%20Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer takes a step closer and Castiel marvels at the delicacy of his deception.  Every detail of Dean is accurate: every nuance of his expression, every freckle on his skin, the precise shade of his eyes.  </p><p>Coda for 11.18</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t worry (about a thing)

The interference is terrible.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think there was some kind of storm outside. The picture is fuzzy, spitting static. And the whole room is shaking, the crockery rattling in its cupboards. He’s afraid something might break.

Really, it’s no good at all.

( _You’re no good at all, Castiel_ )

He hunkers down, pulls himself closer to the screen. If he squints, he can see the host’s smiling face when he calls, “Is it going to be alright?”

Castiel smiles. Of course it is.

“You bet, dear friends. It’s going to be _alright_.”

( _It’s not_ )

The motion beneath his feet feels something like an earthquake, and he should know. Castiel has experienced – _caused_ – many earthquakes. Volcanoes too. Outside, everything is shaking; something big is happening. He suspects it’s the battle he’s been awaiting.

The End. Roll credits.

He hopes it’s not a cliff-hanger. He’s not certain there’ll be a new season. Not for him, at any rate. And he’d hate to die in ignorance, not knowing how it all turned out for the world.

( _For the Winchesters_ )

He reaches up and fiddles with the aerial. Static hisses loud in his ears and he flinches. Then the screen goes black.

Silence. Outside someone is screaming. It’s possible that it’s him – his vessel. Well, his former vessel; it belongs to Lucifer now. The sound is desperate, ice cold with rage, and Castiel shivers, pushing back from the TV. His refuge feels less secure now, the silence oppressive.

And then he hears footsteps. There’s only one person it can be and Castiel drags himself to his feet. He’s weary in a way he’s gotten used to over his years of exile – lonely, alienated, hopeless – and he just wants it all to be over.

( _Coward_ )

When Lucifer steps into the kitchen, he’s wearing Dean Winchester’s face. “Cas,” he breathes. “Thank God.”

Castiel cocks his head at Lucifer’s blasphemous irony. “What do you want?”

Lucifer grumbles, “Nice to see you too.” His impersonation of Dean is flawless, he’ll give him that. As the devil pretends to look around the kitchen, Castiel wishes he’d chosen somewhere less intimate in which to hide away; he doesn’t like Lucifer seeing so much of him on display. “Seriously, Cas? This is your happy place?”

“Aren’t you meant to be fighting the Darkness?” he counters.

Lucifer’s gaze snaps to him. He even manages to look offended. “Not without you.”

“Me?” That doesn’t make sense. “You don’t need me.”

“The hell I don’t.” Lucifer takes a step closer and Castiel marvels at the delicacy of his deception. Every detail of Dean is accurate: every nuance of his expression, every freckle on his skin, the precise shade of his eyes. “Cas,” he says, voice dropping low, “you gotta come back, man. You gotta cast that bastard out.”

Castiel retreats, wrong-footed. What’s Lucifer’s game? There’s always a game where his brother’s concerned, but why would he ask Castiel to cast him out?

“What are you _doing_?” Castiel hisses and, almost without thought, his blade drops into his palm. He’d forgotten he was carrying it.

“Hey!” Lucifer’s eyes snap wide as he lifts his hands in mock surrender. “What does it look like I’m doing, man? I’m bringing you back.”

Does he imagine that Castiel will fall for this lie? That he’d attempt to cast him out just because Dean _asked_? Him: Lucifer, an _archangel_? It would be tantamount to suicide.

( _But you’d still do it - if he asked_ )

Castiel looks closer, searching for the cold heart of his brother in Dean’s eyes. He can’t find it. “I may be weak and largely useless,” he says, “but I’m not _stupid_.”

“What?” Lucifer feigns confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

A spike of anger jabs up beneath his ribs. How dare Lucifer use this face to taunt him? Not that he should expect any better from Satan, but still. Castiel said ‘yes’. He thinks he deserves more respect. “What’s the point?” He gestures at his brother, at the face he’s wearing. “What’s the point of all this?”

“The point?” Lucifer steps closer, too close. Castiel braces himself for his brother’s icy touch, but it doesn’t come. Instead he feels heat beating out from his body, which is unexpected. “The point is that I want you back, Cas. That’s the point.”

Castiel shakes his head, frustrated. “This is a waste of time. You should be out there fighting the Darkness.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Lucifer’s voice cracks, just the way Dean’s does when his emotions escape control. It’s a masterful performance. Castiel has to struggle not to respond, not to lean into the illusion. “Because _you’re_ more important.”

He twists out a half-smile. “That’s ridiculous.”

“More important to me,” Lucifer adds gruffly. He glances down and away, as if the admission is embarrassing.

Castiel imagines that’s just how Dean would act if he were ever to make such a confession – which he wouldn’t, of course. Nevertheless, it’s alarming how well Lucifer knows Dean. Or, perhaps, how well he knows Castiel; he’s drawing this image from Castiel’s mind, after all, so it’s no surprise that this representation of Dean is compelling. Castiel knows Dean intimately, right down to his soul, which is probably the point. “Oh,” he says, as understanding dawns. “I know what you’re doing.”

Lucifer looks up through his lashes, expression uncertain. “You do?”

“Of course.” He can’t resist taking a step closer, playing along for a moment. His brother will punish him later, but Castiel has nothing left to lose. “This is your idea of fun.”

Lucifer’s expression crumples into confusion. “What?”

“This.” He makes a gesture to encompass the whole illusion. “This is meant to be torture.”

“Cas, what the hell are you talking about?”

“It won’t work,” he goes on, daring in a way he hasn’t been since Lucifer crushed him in the aftermath of the submarine incident. “You can’t fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Lucifer takes a step forward and clasps Castiel on the shoulder. “Cas, you gotta snap out of this, man. You gotta come home.”

Oh he’s good. He’s very good. The warmth in Dean’s eyes, the touch of his hand, the heated intent in his voice: how often has he craved those intimacies? And home. _Come home_. It’s almost too much. He feels his gut clench with yearning, but he’s lived with this pain for years and it won’t undo him now. Not when he knows it’s a lie. Lucifer’s tempting him with everything he yearns for, but Castiel’s not stupid enough to take a bite from that apple.

“Cas, please,” Lucifer tries again, adding a catch to his voice. “Cast him out and come home, man. I want you back.”

Castiel looks down at Dean’s hand where his fingers are curled into the fabric of his coat. He can feel warmth – illusionary, of course, because this is all happening inside his mind – and it’s difficult not to enjoy the sensation. He’s been alone for so long. “You know, you almost had me,” he says after a beat, lifting his gaze back to Lucifer’s eyes. He wishes he could see their cold depths, but all he can see is Dean. He doesn’t let it distract him. “But, to be honest, you’re trying a little too hard.”

Lucifer swallows. Castiel can see his throat work and tries not to be fascinated. “It’s the truth, Cas.”

“No it’s not.” He tilts his head, but it doesn’t help him see past the illusion. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“I—”

“Come home? I need you? I want you back?” He gives a bitter laugh, shakes off the hand on his shoulder. “What’s next? ‘ _I love you’_?”

Dean – Lucifer – goes very still. It’s startling. And it’s so like Dean it’s uncanny. Castiel looks away so he doesn’t have to see the tender expression Lucifer is carving into that beloved face. “I—” Lucifer clears his throat. “If it helps,” he says, “if that— I mean, yeah. I do. That’s why I want you back, Cas.”

And really, it’s too much. It’s absurd and painful and it makes him so angry. “Stop it,” he hisses, head snapping up and wings bristling. Outside, something screeches and the floor trembles beneath their feet. “Just _stop it_.”

Lucifer flinches. “Cas—”

“No!” And now his hands are fisted in Lucifer’s shirt, slamming him hard against the kitchen wall. He’s surprised Lucifer goes so easily, surprised the force of the blow knocks the breath out of his lungs. Lucifer’s only feigning weakness but Castiel presses his advantage nonetheless and gets right up into his face. “Stop pretending, _brother_. It isn’t working.”

Lucifer blinks, plays at confusion. “Brother?”

“You think this will fool me? You think I believe anything you’re saying?”

“Cas, listen to me. Lucifer’s got his claws into you, man. You don’t know what’s going on. You gotta cast him—”

“You _are_ Lucifer!” Castiel snaps. “You think I can’t _tell_?”

“I’m not!” And now Lucifer’s struggling, gripping Castiel’s wrists as if his brother’s not strong enough to crush him with a single thought. “Cas, it’s me. I swear.”

“That’s impossible,” Castiel says. “This –” he gestures around the facsimile of the kitchen – “is an illusion. We’re _inside my mind_.” He lets go, steps back as Lucifer slumps against the wall. “It’s not what it seems. And neither are you.”

“Cas, listen. I know we’re inside your head, man. I’m—” He pushes himself off the wall, scrubs fingers through his hair. “Okay, this is gonna sound insane but, uh, God sent me here.”

And that’s when his whole story really jumps the shark. Castiel laughs, turns away until his back is turned. “ _God_?” He shakes his head. “You know, I’m starting to wonder whether _you’re_ the one losing his mind around here, because that’s the stupidest—”

Lucifer grabs his arm, spins him around to face him. “It’s not a joke,” he hisses. “God— Look, there’s no time to explain it all now, but he sent me to bring you back. To convince you to cast Lucifer out.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Castiel sighs, done with this now. “You expect me to believe that _God_ asked you to save me?”

“No, actually.” He folds his arms in defiance. “ _I_ asked _God_ to save _you_. We made a deal.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Lucifer, do you really—?”

“Don’t call me that.” His eyes blaze with a distinctly human fury. “I’m not _him_ , okay? And I— Look, for whatever reason, God thinks I’m the only one who can convince you to cast Satan out. He said that you…”

As ‘Dean’ trails off, the color in his face heightens; it’s a nice touch. Convincing. Castiel finds himself struggling to see past the illusion.

“He said you’d listen to me, Cas. He said that if you knew how I felt— Crap.” The hand on Castiel’s arm tightens, but not angrily. It’s almost possessive. “Cas, I get why you did this, okay? He explained it all. He— He fucking _showed_ me, man.” His eyes close, brow furrowed, and when they open they’re glistening. “I know about all of it: Hannah, Metatron, that stupid fucking nine-to-five angel who thought you were _expendable_. Jesus.” He takes a breath. “And I know I fucked up too, man. I should have known how you were feeling. I should have told you that I care—”

“Don’t.” He can’t bear to hear this, not from Lucifer’s lying lips. “Don’t say that.”

“Fuck it, Cas, I have to.” He’s so urgent and raw it’s difficult not to believe him. “I want you back, man. I need you. And I—”

“No.” Castiel turns his head so he doesn’t have to see, but it doesn’t help. Those words –those lies – are under his skin now, making him want, want, want. “I won’t listen to—”

“I _love_ you, Cas. And maybe that’s messed up, but—”

“No!” Furious, Castiel jerks back, but Dean’s – Lucifer’s; it can only be Lucifer’s – hold on him is too tight. “You really think I’ll believe this? That God— What? That he’s come back? That he _cares_ now?” He laughs, but it sounds wild. He feels wild, deranged by the lies Lucifer is trying to sell. “That _Dean_ cares? That he would ever stand there and tell me that he _loves me_?”

Face stricken, Lucifer says, “He would if it was true.”

“Oh, so suddenly everything I’ve longed for is _real_ now? That’s just absurd.” He shakes free of Lucifer’s grip and this time Lucifer lets him go. He looks stunned. “I don’t know what you want from me,” Castiel growls, “I don’t know what the point of all this is, but I’m not buying it. I gave you my consent. You promised you could defeat the Darkness. So go do it before I change my mind and throw you out.”

Lucifer stares at him. There’s something working behind his eyes, gears shifting. “He can’t defeat the Darkness,” he says. “Lucifer’s getting his ass kicked right now. Can’t you feel it?”

He can feel something, that storm raging outside – the distant screaming. It could be anything. “You’re the Father of Lies,” he says. “Do you think I’ve forgotten?” But his pulse is racing nonetheless.

( _Is that hope? Fool)_

“Cast him out, Cas.” Outside, the world shakes again. It rumbles beneath his feet and Lucifer looks up, nervous. For a moment the reality of him flickers. “Let me take you home,” he says. “Let me _save_ you, Cas. Please, man.”

And perhaps it makes sense, after all. Because if Castiel burns himself out in a struggle with his brother, if he leaves his vessel empty, then it’s Lucifer’s forever.

He backs up a step. His heart is beating high in his chest; he wants so badly for this to be real, for this to be possible. But that’s how he knows it’s a lie. Lucifer has form, after all. “And saith unto him,” he recites, “‘All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.’”

“I’m not the freakin’ devil!” The fury in Dean’s face is real as he surges forward, fisting both hands into Castiel’s coat and pulling him into his space. “Look at me.” He gives him a shake, makes Castiel lift his eyes to his. “Look at me, Cas.” And now his voice goes rough, intimate in a way Castiel’s only ever imagined. “It’s me. You know it is.”

Castiel can’t answer because looking into those eyes all he can see is Dean. All he can feel is Dean. “It’s not possible,” he insists, but it comes out a whisper, something akin to prayer.

“You have to believe me.”

“I _can’t_.” He lifts a hand to where Lucifer – Dean? – is holding his coat, feels warm skin beneath his fingers. Helpless, he wraps his hand around Dean’s wrist. “All of this… how can it be real?”

Dean is as intent as Castiel has ever seen him, his gaze focused only on him. “You once told me that good things do happen,” he says. “You think this could be one of them?”

Castiel closes his eyes, squeezes them shut. He can feel himself falling into the lie, accepting it because it’s everything he wants. “You want me to cast out Lucifer?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Amara will kill you and I can’t watch you die, Cas. I just— I can’t.” His hands in Castiel’s coat soften, but don’t move away. Instead, they slide up to hold his arms. “You and me, Cas. This bond? It’s more than—” He dips his head until his forehead is touching Castiel’s “I love you, man. I do. And if that means anything to you, then you’ll come back to me.”

Castiel’s heart stops. Restarts. Thumps hard in his chest as something joyous and tentative unfurls inside of him. It’s too good to be true – he _knows_ it is – but it doesn’t matter; regardless of the consequences, he has no choice. “You should stand back,” he says, pushing Dean away with gentle force. “This might be unpleasant.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “You’re gonna do it?”

Castiel looks at the tiled floor, gathers his will. He prays – maybe God really is listening? – that he’s not making another terrible mistake. “I intend to try,” he says and looks up into Dean’s eyes. “Because if there’s a chance that this is real, then… Well, if anything’s worth fighting for, this is it.”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes. “I’ll be— I’m right there, Cas. Outside? I’m right there waiting for you, man.”

He nods. “If I fail…”

“You won’t.”

And that is very far from certain, but there’s little point in arguing. “I just want you to know that I feel the same, Dean. I may have raised you from Hell, but you’ve saved me in a more profound way. I feel blessed to know you.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, squirming. “And quit talking like you’re dying, man. You can do this.”

Castiel finds a smile. “Okay,” he says and closes his eyes, marshalling his strength as he reaches out with his mind into the icy darkness beyond his small haven. “You should leave now.”

“Yeah.” But he doesn’t go, Castiel can still hear him breathing, and suddenly Dean’s hands are cupping Castiel’s face, making his eyes fly open. Dean’s very close, watching him carefully. “You can do this,” he repeats. “You can beat him, Cas.” And then, with a hitch of breath, he leans in and presses his lips to Castiel’s in an urgent, hasty kiss. When he pulls back, he looks as startled as Castiel feels. “For luck,” he explains, with an alarmed smile.

And then he’s gone and Castiel is alone with Lucifer.

This, he thinks, will be the fight of his life. And he sure as hell doesn’t plan on losing.

( _You’d better not_ )

It’s only when he’s lying breathless on the floor of some abandoned warehouse, exhausted but triumphant as he gazes up into Dean’s smiling eyes, that Castiel fully recalls his words.

 _I asked God to save you. We made a deal_.

Crowley’s hand lands on Dean’s shoulder, pulling him away. “C’mon, lover boy. Mr. Big says it’s show time.”

“No!” Castiel tries to stop him, but Sam holds him back and he’s too weak to resist. “Dean. What have you done?”

Sam looks anxious but Dean just smiles and leans down to press a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Don’t worry,” he says, so quiet no one else can hear. “It’s going to be alright.”

( _It will be?_ )

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Three Little Birds" - Bob Marley
> 
> So maybe it will go down a little like this? (Or not.) Thanks for reading! :) You can find me on Tumblr as [enochian-things](http://www.enochian-things.tumblr.com/) so come and say hi! :)


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